The day began with the soft patter of rain, a sound now familiar and sometimes a call for a change of plans. An early appointment with a couple of retirees in Indian Hill was postponed in favor of drier pastures to come on Saturday.
Pulling into Still Water Farm, it's as if the last month has been a mere breath in time, returning to a place last visited in April. The rain lends a sheen to the landscape, a glossy coat over the world I work in.
The drive up the path, a mirror to the slate skies, is contemplative. It's days like this when the rhythm of a farrier's life is not dictated by the clock but by the weather.
From the shelter of the barn, the world is a cascade of grey hues, each drop of rain a note in the overture of the day's work. Even as I wish for sunnier days, I can't help but feel at peace in the stillness of the rainy morning.
One of the gentle giants I worked on today, calm and patient. The hooves were not overly long—a testament to the consistent care and the slower growth of this cooler season.
After the trim, it's a short walk back to the stall, a ritual as comforting to these steadfast companions as it is to me.
In Lebanon, the last stop of the day, the humidity hangs heavy, a tangible cloak. The horses are shod, and as they move away, their steps are sure, a silent thanks for the service rendered.
My tools bear the brunt of the day's damp, a challenge that spurs thoughts of innovation. Perhaps a cover for the anvil or a new arrangement to keep the rig dry—ideas to ponder for another day.
After the day's labors, I allow myself a moment of respite, a tradition that's become a small yet significant part of my routine.
Here at Acapulco, I trade the rhythm of rain for the melody of a lively kitchen, the clink of glasses, the sizzle of good food.
And as my trusty truck rests outside, I reflect on the day. For all the challenges the weather brings, there's always a way to find warmth and comfort, be it in the embrace of a good meal or the satisfaction of work well done.
Until the next forge is lit and the next margarita is poured...
